Werewolf Professor Harry Potter Novels & Stories

Everyone knows they're just created fantasies, to entertain fictional stories lovers"he added, with a nonchalant enthusiasm. I forced my face into an unreadable mask, but inside, irritation clawed at me. He thinks of us as mere fictional entertainment. He had no idea what he was surrounded by. No idea that his own professor was a werewolf. No idea that about half of the students sitting in this class could shift at will. No clue that he was speaking to an Alpha. An Almighty one to be precise. And he laughed–laughed–at his own words, shaking his head like the mere thought of werewolves existing was absurd.

I felt an energy shift, loving the power that came with being a leader. "All right, let's get down to business. So, we've been gathering intel on potential threats on campus. One of us thinks Professor Morgan is a warlock." "Any specific reasons?" Ziah walked in with a careless, casual look on his face. "I overheard him talking about some weird rituals," Blake, a werewolf, said. "Something about the sacrifice of a loved one or something like that. That sounded dangerous."

that voice made me look and I saw two werewolves in human form. The one I met earlier has dark hair, blue eyes, a pointed nose, dark red lips, sculpted jaw, and fair skin. The one whose voice is unfamiliar to me seemed to be more mysterious. He has grey hair, silver eyes, a pointed nose, pale lips, sculpted jaw, and fairer skin than the other one. I coughed and realized that my hands are tied and all I can do is sit. “Just kill me,” I muttered and sit. I now have a broader sight of where I am.

“Like Dexter’s Laboratory?” “Ohhh, like the professor from Power Puff Girls?” Kara holds her hands to her mouth with excitement. “Oh my Goddess, no Kara. He means she’s gonna be like Professor Lupin. Except he was a lycan. I don’t care what they called him in that movie.” Katie crosses her arms in front of her and squints her eyes in an accusatory manner. “I should know. I used to have a regular who was a lycan. He was an asshole.”

It's must be because of her. Typically I wouldn't acknowledge him at all. I wouldn't care about making myself welcome. I normally walk into any room I want and I don't worry about who is inside. I don't greet who is inside. They greet me. She has changed me within seconds. This isn't a mate bond, this is witchcraft. "Well, Hello King Bishop. You heard correctly. This is a class that covers werewolf history," the professor says, and I nod my head as if I care.

simply talking as friends should. At his words, Sephora leaned forward slightly with a joking tug pulling a small smirk form her lips, her chin resting on her knuckles as she listened to more of Corvin's theorys. She asked, encouragingly of him, "...sooo, tell me, professor Mourhollow… if the harpies all whisper about werewolves as monsters, why do I sense you don't agree?"

I wobbled a bit and sent a glare to Aaron before Alex picked me up and carried me into the bar. It was dark inside, and empty. Or almost empty. I looked around as Alex put me down in one of the booths and headed over to the bar. Sitting in the booth next to me were the two goons that I had seen at the bar a few days ago. I knew they were Elias’ men but didn’t know their names. Sitting next to one of the goons was an older man. He was almost completely bald with grey hair cut short. He was short but stocky and a familiar sight in the town. Harry was the owner of Howlers and also the oldest werewolf I knew. Werewolves had a reasonably long lifespan, and it wasn’t unusual for us to reach well o

Following Karina’s haste, Arda was back inside the car where Chester sat waiting, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “You guys took forever,” he muttered as they climbed in. He started the car but cast a glance their way. “And you both look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Not a ghost,” Karina replied, her tone sharp. “A werewolf. Her professor, to be exact.” Chester’s head snapped toward her. “What? What pack is he from? And what happened?”

change. It was a grotesque, beautiful horror. Bones snapped and elongated. Skin rippled as fur retreated into pores. In a matter of seconds, three naked, panting men stood in the dirt, their bodies covered in scars and fresh, bleeding gashes. "He’s losing his grip, boys," one of the men spat, wiping blood from his mouth. "An Alpha who can't control his hunger for a human girl is a liability." The black wolf—Zayden—didn't shift. He stood his ground, a low, earth-shaking growl vibrating through his massive chest. His golden eyes locked onto the men, a silent promise of death.

One week later, the werewolf culture class commenced sharply at eight o’clock in the morning in the tiered lecture hall. On the podium, Professor Sarek looked radiant. His golden-brown eyes gleamed under the lights, and his entire presence radiated the unmistakable satisfaction of a man thoroughly well-fed. “Turn to page sixty-two,” he said, his voice carrying a distinctly cheerful lilt. “Today, we’ll be discussing the werewolf’s… views on romance.”